


Five Men and A Succubus

by KittyCatInBlue



Category: Seduce Me (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, Friendship, i'mma be honest the main theme here is family, idk yet, there might be an endgame ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyCatInBlue/pseuds/KittyCatInBlue
Summary: Instead of Mika being the human, she's the demon of Lilth. The incubi we know and love are instead humans. How will this pan out?OrThe death of Harold Anderson brought his estranged grandsons together, now forced to live in his mansion. It also manages to attract an old friend of his, one who may be more trouble than anyone could imagine.The tale of the five grandchildren of Harold, and their newest succubus friend, Mika.
Relationships: Damien Anderson | Izroul & Mika Anderson, Erik Anderson | Uzaeris & Mika Anderson, James Anderson | Raestrao & Mika Anderson, Matthew Anderson | Zecaeru & Mika Anderson, Mika Anderson & Sam Anderson | Aomaris
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	1. "I Knew You Wouldn't Leave Me..."

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! So this is just an idea I'm throwing out there, into the world. I may continue writing it **if** people like this stuff. If you like it, just show it. I might just continue on with it!  
> None of these characters are mine, every character and the base storyline belongs to Michela Laws!  
> Hope you enjoy! Oh, and, be warned, there's some HEAVY angst ahead. It gets darker before it gets fluffier, but it will get fluffier!

**James: The First Born**

It wasn't a dark and stormy day on the day that Harold Anderson was lowered into the ground. It was bright, almost unmoved by the great sadness that ruled the visitors.

Much like it was the first of Harold's grandson, James. Standing in front of the grave with four strangers surrounding him. Strangers that were apparently his brothers.

It's not that James didn't know of them, no, of course not.

He'd heard his mother gossip with her friends about how 'Erik' was apparently being bullied and was too weak to stand up for himself, waiting for someone to rescue him.

About how 'Sam' kept getting into trouble, effectively sealing any hopes of a teenage rebellion of his own.

About how 'Matthew' didn't have any friends, and was barely verbal at times.

And **all** complaints about how 'Damien' got to be the son to live with their father, despite being a bastard.

Personally, James had met them briefly a few years ago. Multiple times. They were just kids then, doing what kids always did when they met strangers, either hiding away, or trying to put themselves in the spotlight.

Either way, they were all strangers. Strangers he now had to live with. His mother had expressed that she would like him to move to that house and get some practical experience. He could only assume the others did too.

The boys had bags with them. All except from the redheaded one, in the very back, trying to hide his tears. James didn't try to comfort that one.

Though he did notice the other redhead glance at him multiple times, eyes sad and sympathetic. Did they know each other?

James noted in the silence of the graveyard that the thought bothered him. The thought was then discarded.

The drive to the house was quiet. None of the boys spoke. James almost preferred the suffocating silence full of suffering from the graveyard to the awkward, unsure silence in the car.

When they reached the house though, he wished he'd been in that car for longer, as a beautiful woman with long black hair and big green eyes looked up at them, unseeing as they walked in, lifting herself slightly from the pool of her own blood.

"Harold… I knew you wouldn't leave me…" She smiled gently before collapsing again. Her clothes were tattered and her skin was littered with black and blue marks.

Yes. James would very much prefer being in that suffocatingly awkward car again.

* * *

**Erik: The Sly Second**

Erik found it hard to feel bad for Harold’s passing. He’d never met the man, sure, but he knew who he raised as a son. It made it hard to feel sorry for the loss.

He honestly couldn’t imagine a reason to be sad for it, honestly. Well. Maybe except for Damien. He was the youngest, as Erik was informed. He was also forced to live with the brute of a man who impregnated all their mothers, after his own committed suicide.

Erik’s own mother had tried hard to help Damien’s, so Erik had some passing familiarity with the youngest. He wouldn’t say he was friends with the younger man, but he did feel for him.

That said, Erik couldn’t help but feel… Strange about not being the odd one out. Always too flamboyant, too out there, too proud, too loud… Catching attention.

His mother had taught him to do that, after all. So long as people talk about you, you’ve won. _Won what, exactly?_ Why, the game, of course! Everyone played it. Some better, some worse.

His mother had explained that their father was an expert in the game. Taking women in the lowest point in their lives and twisting them. Manipulating them into loving him, disregarding anyone who would oppose him. And then leave them. Just as he’s done with the mothers of the rest of the men in the car.

His eyes narrowed as he tried desperately to remember any piece of information his mother had armed him with.

James was the eldest, apparently, groomed to be heir. His mother scoffed at the idea of the selfish jerk giving anyone control. She taught Erik all he’d need to know in order to play the game expertly, and told him to go learn more through experience. In this house.

Sam, the one with… Blue eyes? Or green? Judging by the glare, he figured it’d be the green eyed man. The one with behavioural issues so bad no school in his town was willing to take him in.

Matthew, then, with the blue eyes. Probably. Groomed, but failed. More of a follower than a leader. His mother said that one had quite a potential in the sugar pot, if only he didn’t have all those problems, the ticks, the energy…

Erik made sure to walk as calmly as he could into the house, and found himself bewildered by the sight of the woman on the floor.

“Harold… I knew you wouldn’t leave me…”

Well. Seems like dear old grandfather had a more interesting life than he expected.

* * *

**Sam: The Brute**

Sam was unsurprised to see how his ‘brothers’ looked. Two composed and unfeeling, one uncomfortable and one too emotional. He couldn’t help but wonder how much they’ve all been through. He pushed it away.

Sam could feel the eyes of everyone on his back. People perhaps questioning why **he** was there. Or hell, maybe they weren’t. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

_Or too damn used to being the freakshow._ His frown deepened at that possibility, even though he knew it was the most likely. People looked at him and saw nothing beyond his anger. At who? At his mother, who never understood, at his father, who was never there, at these brothers, that weren’t supposed to be strangers, at the kids who would bully others, and tell on him when he stood up.

At the kids he stood up for that turned and called him a bully.

Suffice it to say, Sam had plenty to be angry at. And that’s without counting his shitty attitude.

He didn’t know these people. He suspected that the house was just convenient enough for his mother to throw him out using that excuse. She probably wanted to for a while.

His frown deepened further. _That’s not fair. She’s trying her best, you asshat._

His eyes shifted to the one who cried. Was he never forced to grow up?

Sam sighed subtly. He wondered how it felt to not immediately resort to anger. Was it freeing? Was it worse, or better?

Was there a better or worse way? Was there a better, or worse future for him?

He tried not to think about it on the drive. Glaring at the rest of the men in the car. Were they living better, or worse lives than him? Well, their mothers must have also given up on them. But they did do that now, or did they do that earlier?

As they entered the house, each of them seemed stuck in their own thoughts. Maybe besides the redhead that stood tall. He seemed to be watching all the others in a way that rubbed Sam the wrong way. He couldn’t really do much more than glare at him at this point, though.

He’d learn his lesson already. Most everyone rubs him wrong. His life will never go forward if every time he felt wronged by the way someone looked at him he’d engage.

And he didn’t like it. He didn’t like hurting others. So, as long as that guy didn’t actually do anything wrong, he wouldn’t fight him.

Sam’s eyes widened as he took in the image of the bloodied woman in tattered clothes, her shiny black hair falling on her body like a soft, shiny waterfall or something, and her green eyes piercing.

“Harold… I knew you wouldn’t leave me…” ...Well. Shit.

* * *

**Matthew: The Child**

Matthew wasn’t prepared for this. He didn’t want to leave home quite yet. He didn’t want to leave his mom alone, not after all this time just trying to please her, to gain her approval.

He wasn’t dumb. Matthew knew full well exactly what his mother needed to get for him to get her approval. Her ex’s approval. His father.

Sure, he got positive reinforcement from his mother. Look at little Mattie, look at how well he’s reading the big boys books. How he’s not ‘lowered’ to the level of his classmates. How sweet and attentive he was. How he was always at his mother’s side. Never asking for much..

In truth, he was fully content with making small, wooden carvings, little toys he could try to color and make more appealing. Little trinkets he gave childhood crushes in the playground that hurt when he saw them given to the fastest boy in class.

The memory made him smile sadly. He hoped, for so long, to make friends in those years. With those people. Before he found his own clique, where it felt good to be himself. His mother loosened up, let him be himself.

Maybe she lost hope that his father will approve of him? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was free to be a little kid. Geeking out over video games, laughing with a snort, being loud, moving as fast or as slow as he wanted.

Matthew didn’t do well in moments of intense feelings. He’s always overwhelmed by thoughts and feelings, never focused, his mother always complained. Maybe that’s why she loosened up? She realized he wasn’t changing?

He was focused, sometimes. When he was working. Trying to take a block of wood, cutting off the pieces unwanted, to make something delicate. Something perfect. Something of his own.

Sometimes, he wondered if his mother wanted to do the same to him. Carve out the unwanted parts of him that made him ‘Matthew’ and leave behind all the things that made him ‘The Perfect Son’.

He didn’t know why he was here. He didn’t know Harold. He barely even knew his father. He wasn’t comfortable with how the people around them were staring, nor was he comfortable with the quiet sniffling from the one next to him.

He wondered, privately, if his grandfather really mean to give **him** the house? Not that he was complaining. Some privacy, some independence seemed **perfect** just about now. 

He just wasn’t expecting the woman. Nope. Not at all.

“Harold… I knew you wouldn’t leave me…”

* * *

**Damien: The Bastard**

Damien always had death following him closely. A few days before he was born, his grandfather died. The day he was born was the best in his life. From there, it all went downhill.

His mother never asked for him. He was a mistake. A bastard. She didn’t have the resources or the mental energy to deal with him. He remembered the day he came home to her, staring down at the open window. He remembered calling out for her, and that was the final straw for her, because she jumped.

He was taken in by his father, then. And from there, he wished he’d been the one to jump.

His father hated him. Berated him. Beat him. Because after all, he was almost illiterate, too scared to even say anything against his father. Too insecure to ask for help.

Or at least, he would have been. If it hadn’t been for Harold.

He met him by accident. Damien had been crying, having ran away one night. He was staring down the ground from a tall bridge, with shaking hands and endless tears falling as he tried to think, weigh the pros and cons of jumping.

Would he still burden his mother, even in the after? Was there anyone left who would mourn him? Would anyone understand what happened?

A frail, thin hand wrapped around his wrist and he looked up into kind, elderly eyes. Harold sat with him for hours in that cold night, listening to the small boy. He was just nine years old.

After they discovered they were related, Damien went home with Harold. He didn’t care what would happen. None of the teacher’s warnings about ‘stranger danger’ mattered to him at that point. He couldn’t imagine a worse fate than keeping his life as it was.

His father didn’t care that Damien didn’t come home. Harold tried to make a case for Damien, but a stern look from one of the many lawyers told the both of them what would happen. Money spoke louder than words in some circles.

It didn’t matter either way. Damien got to stay with Harold, leaving once or twice a month to speak to his mother’s grave, apologize and leave again.

It was on one of those days that Harold passed. He’d went to nap and just… Didn’t wake up. Damien couldn’t help but feel it was his own fault, for leaving his grandfather when he needed him the most.

No amount of staring managed to break through his misery. No amount of scoffs or whispers. Not today.

His heart hurt at the prospect of letting those strangers into Harold a… Into his home. Who were they to come in, uninvited?

Speaking of uninvited. The shockingly beautiful woman in his home was a surprise he wasn’t expecting or wanting at that day.

He couldn’t help but sigh, knowing that if he had more energy, he might have burst into overwhelmed tears again.

Why was everything happening today?


	2. Extended hiatus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry

Hey people. I know I’m a new writer, and I literally only have one chapter out, and I do intend on writing more, but I probably won’t write anything more for the first half of next year.

My grandmother just passed today, and I really don’t want to tie her loss to something I love writing and reading about, so I’ll hold off on writing and updating for the next few months.

I’m sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so you reached the end, huh? Sure hope you enjoyed your read! And, hey, if you've any feedback, please comment it! Editing problems are my **curse** , and I'm also dyslexic, with English being my second language, so feel free to write down ANY mistake you find, and I'll either clarify or fix it entirely! Thanks for reading, dear!


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